


Ape Descendants

by h_d



Category: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Merlin (TV)
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Near Death Experiences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:51:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5203082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h_d/pseuds/h_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There probably isn't enough chewable ice in the galaxy to distract Arthur Penn from thoughts of kissing his strange and affectionate friend, Merlin, but he enjoys Merlin's company so much that he's willing to try.  When Arthur learns that Merlin isn't really from Guildford at all, an adventure Arthur could never have imagined begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ape Descendants

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the mods of Reel Merlin for hosting another round of this fest! Thank you also to my beta, T. I hope everyone enjoys reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> I've been a fan of the Hitchhiker's Guide series since childhood, and I'm very familiar with the books, the TV version, and the more recent movie. But to be honest, a lot of the details of this fic came from the Hitchhiker's Guide text adventure game, which I played constantly as a kid. If you'd like to try it for yourself, the game is playable online [here](http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/articles/1g84m0sXpnNCv84GpN2PLZG/the-hitchhikers-guide-to-the-galaxy-game-30th-anniversary-edition).

Chartered accountant Arthur Penn, single, bisexual, 30 years old, didn't like the sorts of nightclubs where other single people congregated. Such places were far too loud, and their patrons always had too much flesh on display. In Arthur's opinion, a nice pint of bitter, some footy to watch, and a good packet of crisps were the most important elements of the perfect night out. 

Having someone with whom to share these pleasures was always nice, of course. But he rarely dated, and he didn't have many friends outside of work. 

He was enjoying a pint at his local on a Saturday evening when he looked away from the television that hung above the bar in order to ask the barman for a refill and some cheesy onion crisps. He noticed that another man, sitting down the bar, was staring at him. Arthur gazed back, and the man quickly shifted his eyes to the small television. 

Arthur studied him. He was handsome, beardless, with pale skin, high cheekbones, large ears, and dark hair. He looked a bit younger than Arthur, perhaps 25, but his clothes were....well, he was dressed like someone's eccentric grandfather, really. His suit jacket was white with narrow red stripes, and under it was—improbably—a purple and white Fair Isle jumper. Even his black trousers were old-fashioned, with wide, turned-up cuffs. A leather satchel rested near his feet. 

It was a rather small village. With the bloke's bizarre clothes and his exceptional good looks, Arthur felt sure he should have noticed him before. Had he only just moved here? 

The stranger wasn't watching the telly at all, now. Instead, his eyes were darting all around, but they landed frequently on Arthur. He had to have had a reason for watching Arthur in the first place, and Arthur was very curious about what it might be. Arthur picked up his drink and stood, walking closer to the man, who was now fiddling with the white cuffs of his jumper. That wasn't at all encouraging, but Arthur soldiered on.

"So, how do you like Arsenal's chances?" Arthur asked, in a tone he hoped was friendly and unthreatening.

The man grinned back, and the expression transformed him into someone far warmer and more approachable than he had seemed only a moment before. He really was very good-looking.

"Oh, I should think a well-stocked arsenal could succeed against nearly any foe," the man said cheerfully. 

Not a fan of footy, then.

Arthur cleared his throat and sat on the barstool next to him. "I'm Arthur. Are you new to the village? I don't recall seeing you around."

"Well-spotted. I am new here," the man replied. "I'm Merlin."

"Like the wizard? How unusual." 

"Er, yes, so I've heard," said Merlin, scrunching up his nose. 

Ah, crap. Arthur never had been very good at chatting people up.

"Sorry, mate. I'm sure you've heard all the jokes. But my name really is Arthur." 

"Of course that's your name, just as my name really is Merlin." He leaned forward and placed a hand on Arthur's knee. 

Arthur studied it. It was a nice hand, pale, with long fingers, and it was warm through the fabric of his trousers. Arthur was just thinking about covering it with his own when Merlin removed it.

Arthur looked up in surprise, and Merlin was smiling at him, genuinely, it seemed; Arthur could see little crinkles in the corners of his eyes. 

This was all very interesting. Arthur had never had a one-night stand before. Briefly, he wished he'd given a false name, too. In the most secret parts of his soul, he'd always dreamed of having a different first name, something romantic like Fabian, or rugged like Derrick. But he was only Arthur Penn: firm and reasonable, good at sums.

Merlin, though, really was enchanting, no matter what his real name was. He was still smiling, so Arthur placed an elbow on the bar and plopped his chin in his hand, just a hair outside of Merlin's personal space. 

He cleared his throat. "So where are you from, and what's brought you to our village?"

Merlin had a strange accent, and Arthur, who had a good ear for such things, couldn't place it at all. He was eager to add another accent to his mental database, and he hoped that Merlin would be honest about his origins, at least.

Merlin met Arthur's eyes; Arthur noticed that Merlin's eyes were a deep, sea blue, and that he had turned nervous again, blinking rapidly. His eyelashes were long and sort of pretty. 

After a long moment, Merlin said, "I'm from Guildford, originally. Doing some research for, erm, the research division. The research division of a research company."

He wasn't from Guildford or anywhere near it. Arthur's late uncle Gaius had been from Guildford, and Merlin didn't sound anything like him. 

But Arthur nodded and moved a few inches until he was very close to Merlin indeed. His own breathing quickened as he watched the pupils of Merlin's eyes dilate even further in the low lighting of the pub. 

"You don't need to lie to me," Arthur said, his voice pitched low. He had never done anything quite like this, but he thought he knew how it should go. "I don't mind what your name is, where you're from, or what you're doing here. Do you want to come back to my place?"

"Sure. What for?" Merlin asked, sounding honestly curious. 

Arthur furrowed his brow. It seems he'd misunderstood. "My telly is much better than the one in the pub," he said, lamely.

Merlin, though, looked very excited. "That will be excellent for my research. Let's go." He picked up the satchel, slung it over his body, then held out his hand for Arthur, who took it, a bit surprised. They both stood.

Arthur nodded at the barman. He came here at least once a week, and always settled his tab. He wasn't surprised when the barman simply nodded in return.

They held hands all the way to Arthur's cottage. Arthur was glad for a sign that he and Merlin wanted the same thing, although he wasn't used to public displays of affection. In any case, he'd probably never see Merlin again after tonight, so what did it matter if old Mr. Monmouth was peering at him through his blinds and shaking his head in disapproval? It was none of Arthur's concern. He squeezed Merlin's hand, and Merlin squeezed back.

When they finally reached Arthur's small cottage, Arthur flung the front door open with a bit of a flourish. He liked his cottage; he'd decorated it himself, with bits and bobs collected on the few weekend trips he'd managed to take in the last ten years. There was his favourite teapot, purchased at a market stall in Amsterdam, and the shelf full of hand-carved wooden figurines of a king and his knights, which he'd bought at Mont St. Michel. He wondered if Merlin would take a moment to notice these small treasures, or head right for the bedroom and start stripping off his odd clothes. 

Merlin didn't do either of those things. Instead, he pulled his hand free and headed for the couch, where he perched expectantly, glancing over his shoulder at Arthur. 

Merlin gestured at the large, flat-screen telly mounted on the wall opposite. "Is this it? How does it turn on?" he asked. Nothing about his posture or behaviour seemed flirtatious now, just friendly and interested—in telly. 

"There's a remote," Arthur said, sighing. He grabbed it from the table and turned on the television. 

"Oh, brilliant!" Merlin gushed, as the sights and sounds of Match of the Day filled the room. "They look very good, running around in their smart uniforms, don't they? They do so much credit to all of you. And with this telly, it's like I'm right there watching it all for myself. You have some wonderful technology here, never listen to anyone who says any different, right?"

"Right," Arthur said. 

He felt that the evening was getting away from him, so he detoured to the kitchen to grab a pair of beers, a bottle opener, and a bag of crisps. He had a large bag of plain and one of cheesy onion flavour. He preferred the latter, but he hesitated. Would there be kissing later? He had no idea. He grabbed both, decided he would try to refrain from indulging in the tastier crisps himself, and carried the lot to the coffee table in front of the couch.

"Crisps?" he offered, handing a beer to Merlin.

Merlin beamed at him, nodding, and reached for a handful. 

"Amazing! Tastes just like cheese and onions!" he exclaimed a moment later, his mouth full of crumbs. It was as though the man had never eaten flavoured crisps before.

Arthur sat down beside him and took a few for himself.

\----------

It turned out that Merlin really did live in the village, although Arthur couldn't ascertain his actual profession. Merlin's days seemed to consist of wandering around the forest and the village and making the villagers uncomfortable with odd questions. He spent many of his evenings in Arthur's cottage, or at the pub with him, although he always went home to his own place before it got too late.

Merlin did like to watch footy, after a fashion, although he had some major misunderstandings about the nature of the sport.

"They're certainly well-trained," he would say, munching Arthur's cheesy onion crisps. "You'll all be quite safe if it ever comes to hand-to-hand combat. Or leg-to-leg, I suppose. Rather nice legs they are, too. Oh my, look at the calf muscles on that one." 

Arthur didn't look at the screen. At such pronouncements, a bright red flush always appeared on Merlin's pale cheeks, and it was always a beautiful sight. 

While he still offered Merlin the best beer he could afford, Arthur took to drinking water himself, simply because there was nothing remarkable about pouring it into a glass with ice, which he could chew. 

Merlin liked people, and often expressed a very healthy appreciation for the male form in particular, but he'd never given a hint of any sexual or romantic interest in Arthur or his body. He was just a tactile, affectionate sort of person.

The hand-holding continued, as did Mr. Monmouth's tutting, and it wasn't at all uncommon for Merlin to sprawl across Arthur on the sofa with his head in Arthur's lap. Merlin prattled excitedly about athletics and local gardening and snack foods, and the slow, lazy blinks of his long, delicate eyelashes hypnotised Arthur away both from watching footy and from clarifying its rules and purpose. Yet Merlin showed no signs of noticing his effect on Arthur. 

Arthur came to the conclusion that Merlin wasn't attracted to him, and that was fine. He had been rather lonely before Merlin came along, and he valued Merlin's friendship a great deal. When Gilli, a work colleague, invited Arthur to a cocktail party, waggling his eyebrows and telling Arthur that he had an attractive friend to introduce him to, Arthur didn't hesitate to agree. 

The hesitation came later, when he had to phone Merlin to tell him he'd be out on Friday night.

"Do you have a date?" Merlin asked. He sounded a little gloomy about it, Arthur thought, but he quickly realised that was probably just wishful thinking.

"Nothing like that. Just a work thing," Arthur said. It wasn't completely a lie, but he completely hated it.

"Alright then," Merlin said. "I'll have tea with Mr. Monmouth. He's been asking for weeks. Do you know why, by the way?"

Arthur huffed a laugh. "Probably to warn you off my evil ways."

"You're not evil," Merlin said, as though it were the worst affront he could conceive of. "You're my friend."

"And you're mine," Arthur replied, proud that his voice didn't crack. How he wished Merlin did belong to him, in a different sense entirely, although he appreciated Merlin's display of devotion. "I'll see you tomorrow, mate."

Gilli's party was very good—or it began that way, at least. When Arthur walked in, Gilli handed him a frozen, blended drink. Arthur sipped it. It tasted of coconuts, one of Arthur's favourite flavours. Gilli wasn't one of Arthur's favourite people, not a very observant fellow, but he was alright, Arthur supposed. 

Gilli had even thought to use those tiny paper umbrellas. Cute. Arthur had never been to any tropical locations. Perhaps someday he'd take Merlin somewhere sunny and warm. He'd buy him a crate of sunscreen first, of course—Merlin was so fair—and he'd help him put it on, spreading the cream everywhere on his milky skin—

But no. It had been nearly a year now since Arthur had met Merlin; they never would be going on holiday together. 

Arthur took out the umbrella and tipped the drink to his face to chug it, and globs of blended ice and liquor dripped down his cheek. He headed to the loo to wash his face, thinking of finding the rum's hiding place so he could get drunk properly, without any coconut or umbrella distractions. 

When he emerged, Gilli headed for him, pulling a woman along by the arm. She was very pretty and exactly Arthur's type, with a lovely figure, a casual but tasteful outfit, and deep, expressive brown eyes. At the moment, though, the expression in those eyes was one of displeasure.

"Arthur, this is my friend Gwen," Gilli said. "Gwen, this is my co-worker, Arthur."

"Hi Gwen. You've got a bit of fluff, just here," said Arthur, reaching forward and plucking a ball of fuzz from the front of Gwen's tight pink jumper. He opened his palm to show it to her. 

"I'm a lesbian," said Gwen.

Arthur flushed with anger. "Now, listen here—" he began, taking a deep breath before he launched into a rant. He didn't appreciate lies about orientation being used as an excuse when a garden-variety rejection would have done just as well. He hadn't even been looking for an excuse to touch her. He'd showed her the fluff, hadn't he? But instead, he bit his lip and looked away. It wasn't the time or place to argue. 

Gwen shook her head at him, obviously annoyed, and walked to the other side of the room. He narrowed his eyes at her and tried to shake off the encounter.

One of his favourite songs was playing. He tapped his foot along to it and surveyed the room. A woman came in, and many heads turned in her direction. She wasn't more or less attractive than Gwen, but she was certainly different: her skin was pale as Merlin's, while Gwen's skin was dark; instead of a smart skirt and jumper like Gwen's, she wore high stiletto heels, black leather pants, heavy make up, and a short coat of white faux fur. Her dark hair was slicked back into a long ponytail. Not Arthur's type at all.

It was too bad he'd gotten off on the wrong foot with Gwen, who was now bobbing her head in rhythm to the song, too. Perhaps he could apologise, or even make a new friend. She had good taste in music, at least, even if her choice of brush-off had been mildly irritating.

He crossed the room to her. When she spotted him, she crossed her arms and glared.

"Sorry about earlier," he said. "I'm Arthur Penn. I work with Gilli. How do you two know each other?"

She smiled in a far friendlier way than she had before. 

"Hi," she said, and then Arthur noticed she wasn't looking at him at all. The other woman had come from behind Arthur to drape an arm around Gwen's waist. Did they already know each other?

"You're gorgeous," the pale woman said. Oh. This was a come-on. Arthur rolled his eyes and waited for Gwen to tell the woman that she was straight.

"So are you," Gwen replied. Arthur's mouth fell open.

"I'm Morgana. I come from another planet, baby," the woman cooed at Gwen. "Want to take a ride on my spaceship?"

Gwen's eyes widened, and she nodded up at Morgana. It appeared they had both forgotten Arthur was even there. 

He watched them leave and found he no longer wanted to ferret out the rum. He badly wished he'd stayed home to watch telly with Merlin. He placed his half-empty blended drink on an end table and walked out without even wishing Gilli good night.

\----------

One night a few months later, Merlin had his feet in Arthur's lap and was animatedly describing his latest walk in the nearby forest. Arthur watched his elegant hands as they opened, closed, and pointed in lively gestures.

"...and under the tree, there was a beautiful flower, Arthur, like nothing I've ever seen before. Sometimes I do wish I hadn't listened to my third parent from the left. She never wanted me to go into botany, but it's just so exciting, isn't it? The flower looked just like—oh, but I can draw it for you, that will be easier," he said, and he swung himself upright. 

Arthur ached at the loss of contact. He heard Merlin rummaging around his kitchen for, presumably, a pen and paper. 

Instead, he came out holding Arthur's teapot. "Are these meant to be flowers painted here, Arthur?" he asked.

"Yes," Arthur said. "They're different colours of tulips. Very popular in the Netherlands."

"Oh, I like this very much," Merlin said, holding the teapot out at arm's length to admire it. "Why haven't you showed it to me before?"

"I never thought of it. I really only drink tea at breakfast. And you're never here for breakfast," Arthur replied, shrugging. 

Merlin bit his lip and nodded at the floor. "I suppose not," he said. 

He carefully set the teapot down on the coffee table. He seemed uneasy, but Arthur didn't know why. He longed to ask, almost as much as he longed to take Merlin into his arms—or the other way round, he didn't care—and kiss him until they both forgot their names. After all, Merlin often complained of having to endure constant japes about his name; kissing-induced amnesia would solve that problem, wouldn't it? 

Maybe it wouldn't be unwelcome, Arthur allowed himself to think. He stood up and drifted closer to where Merlin was standing. He could just reach out and—

But Merlin was picking up the satchel he always carried and strapping it across his chest. "I'll see you again soon," Merlin said, not meeting Arthur's eyes as he hurried to the door.

Arthur changed into his pyjamas and dressing gown, curled up in Merlin's spot on the couch, and drank a good amount of the beer he kept on hand for Merlin, trying to think of anything but kissing Merlin's lush, pink lips. He failed, but eventually, the alcohol lulled him to sleep.

The next morning, Arthur awoke to a loud noise. His brain was foggy with the traces of a hangover, but this noise wasn't anything he could remember having ever heard before in the quiet village. It sounded like machinery, and it was coming from outside. His head throbbed.

He put on his slippers, paused only long enough to swallow an aspirin he found in the pocket of his dressing gown, and raced outside. 

There was a bulldozer bearing down on his cottage.

Arthur took in the scene at a glance. An oily-looking man seemed to be directing the bulldozer, and Arthur rushed over to him. 

The man nodded at him blandly. 

"Yes, hello, I live in that cottage you're about to destroy. What do you think you're doing?" Arthur yelled, in order to be heard over the sound of the bulldozer.

The man made a motion to the driver, who cut his engine, to Arthur's relief.

"You must be Mr. Penn. Yes, I'm Agravaine DuBois, pleasure to meet you. I'm afraid that your house is scheduled for demolition today," the oily man said. 

He sounded regretful, although his regret wasn't anywhere near the level of magnitude that Arthur felt the destruction of his house warranted.

Arthur took a deep breath. "Do you understand that this is my home?" he yelled, even though at the moment there was only the faint sound of birdsong to shout down.

"Of course, sir. But we're building a bypass. That's how bypasses are, you see. Have to get built," Mr. DuBois said. He winked at Arthur, as though it were all some sort of joke, motioned to the bulldozer driver to get started again, then pulled out his mobile and began playing a game on it.

Arthur weighed his options. There was clearly no way to reason with this person. What else could he do? 

Arthur lay down in front of the bulldozer, which continued moving forward. He looked at the sky. It was grey and cloudy. At least the ground wasn't too cold, he thought, although he'd never been much of a fan of mud. It was one reason why he'd always preferred watching football to playing it, although the thought of getting muddy on the pitch with someone special and showering together afterwards was rather appealing. He smiled, imagined sponging mud away from one of Merlin's extraordinary cheekbones, and wondered if he was becoming unhinged.

Mr. DuBois appeared above him, tucking his mobile into his pocket and motioning again for the bulldozer to stop. "Ah, you're a difficult one, aren't you, Mr. Penn?"

"Yes, I am," Arthur said, jutting out his chin. "You're not knocking down _my_ house."

Like the sun coming out, Merlin's face appeared next to Mr. DuBois'. "Ah, Arthur, so glad to see you. Let's go down to the pub, yeah?" He held out a hand in Arthur's direction.

Arthur was glad to see him, too, and very sorry that he had to decline. "I'm busy, Merlin," he said. 

Mr. DuBois raised his eyebrows at Merlin. "Your young man has a fine suggestion. Go on, Mr. Penn. Have a pint," he said.

Merlin was chewing his lip, deep in thought. Then, his expression cleared. 

"I've just had a wonderful idea. How about you," Merlin said, addressing Mr. DuBois, "take Arthur's place, and then we can go have a pint? What do you think, Arthur?"

"I don't want to get mud on my mobile," Mr. DuBois protested. 

"If you stay on your back, and keep it in your shirt pocket, it will be just fine," Merlin explained. 

Mr. DuBois shrugged and lay down in the mud, parallel to Arthur. "There's a good lad," said Merlin, although Mr. DuBois was easily twenty years his senior. 

Merlin extended his hand again, and Arthur allowed himself to be pulled up. "Come on," he said, not letting go of Arthur's hand. Over his shoulder, he called, "No sneaky knocking Mr. Penn's house down before he gets back, now!"

"Oh, of course not! You have my solemn word!" Mr. DuBois yelled back.

"Where are we going?" Arthur asked Merlin.

"To the pub, as I've said. It's vitally important that we have a few pints, right now," Merlin told him. 

He set a brisk pace. Arthur nearly had to run to keep up.

"But it's—it can't even be lunchtime yet, and I don't trust that man and his bulldozer with my house," Arthur protested. "And anyway, I'm still hungover from last night."

"Why are you hungover? I didn't see you drinking alcohol. Did you go back out after I left?" Merlin asked. He sounded hurt, although Arthur couldn't fathom why.

"Of course not—but never mind that," Arthur said, then stopped dead in his tracks. "I'm not going with you unless you explain."

Merlin's eyes were wide as he turned to face Arthur. "I—I'll explain in the pub. We'll talk and drink. Now come on."

He took Arthur's hand again, and they jogged down the street. 

When they reached the pub, Merlin ordered six pints and two packets of cheesy onion crisps, the latter of which he stashed in his satchel. The barman, who knew them, was shocked.

"What's gotten into you two? A few crisps? That's no kind of a meal to go with all that. And it's not even lunchtime," the barman said. 

"Doesn't matter," Merlin replied. 

"On your tab, then, Arthur?" the barman asked.

Merlin slapped a 100-pound note on the bar. The barman picked it up. "I'll just get your change," he said.

"No, keep it. Thanks for all your good service."

Arthur exchanged a befuddled look with the barman, but he shrugged and began pulling their pints. When he was finished, Merlin and Arthur carried all of the drinks to a table, and Merlin immediately took a deep swallow.

"What is going on, Merlin?" Arthur demanded. 

Merlin met his eyes, then looked away. "Yes. I did say we'd talk, didn't I? Well. What would you say if—if I had a secret, something you knew nothing about? Something you had no reason to believe was even true."

Arthur wanted to tell him that he couldn't imagine anything at all coming between them, but instead, he said, "I can't tell you that, without knowing the nature of the secret." 

Merlin inhaled and exhaled slowly, then very deliberately met Arthur's eyes again. "I'm not really from Guildford," he said.

The confession surprised a laugh out of Arthur, despite the strangeness of the day and the intensity of Merlin's gaze. "I know that, mate. I've never had the slightest idea why you've lied about that, of all things."

Merlin took another long drink, and Arthur did the same. Bitter tasted different first thing in the morning than it did at night, that was for certain. 

"What—" Arthur began, but Merlin held up a hand to forestall further questions. His expression really was very serious. In fact, now that Arthur was properly paying attention, he looked a little fearful, like he expected Arthur to be angry. Arthur couldn't imagine any secret of Merlin's making him angry. Merlin was harmless. 

"I'm from a small planet in the vicinity of Betelgeuse," Merlin said. 

Arthur patted Merlin's shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring way. "Listen. I told you the night we met that you don't need to lie to me. You can tell me the truth." 

He tried to give Merlin an encouraging smile, but Merlin was staring back at him blankly.

"I am telling you the truth," Merlin said. "Here, let me show you." He pulled a small black device out of his pocket. A green light was blinking rapidly. "This is my thumb. I mean, I call it a thumb, but it's not really an extra digit, is it? It's a Sub-Etha Transport Device. It shows me when there's a spaceship within range. And then I can press the button here, on the bottom," he flipped it to show Arthur a large red button, "and catch a lift on that ship."

"I see," said Arthur. There was nothing particularly remarkable about the device. Arthur didn't know what it was, but he was sure Merlin's explanation wasn't the truth. Spaceships weren't real.

Merlin was almost done with his second pint. "Drink up, Arthur, it will cushion your body for the matter transference beam," he said.

Arthur did so, completely at a loss for what to say. 

A terrible loud crashing came through the pub's open window.

"What the devil is that?" Arthur asked, setting down his pint glass.

"Oh, that's just your house being knocked down, I expect," Merlin replied offhandedly.

"My house? Oh my God!" Arthur cried. 

He left the pub at a mad tear, and this time, Merlin had to run to keep up with him. 

"It's pointless, Arthur, completely pointless, don't you see?" Merlin was yelling after him.

Arthur rounded on him. "How can you say that? My house—my favourite teapot—all of my things," he said. "My entire life."

Merlin took both of Arthur's hands in his. Usually, Arthur liked the intimacy of this gesture of Merlin's very much; however, in these circumstances, it wasn't comforting at all. 

"No, not your life at all, Arthur. And I am sorry about your teapot, truly sorry, but I wasn't done explaining," Merlin said. "Listen to me. In a few minutes, before you're able to stop the destruction of your house, the entire Earth is going to be destroyed. If you run off now, I won't be able to take you with me."

"Destroyed? What? By whom?" 

At that moment, a fleet of spaceships appeared in the air, blotting out the sun, and it was as though night had suddenly fallen. The ships were large, ugly, and yellow. They hung in the air above the road, and above the trees and houses too. 

"By them," Merlin said, motioning his head upwards at the same time as he stroked his thumbs on the backs of Arthur's hands. "I read it on the Sub-Etha Network only this morning, and I came right over to get you. They're making way for an interstellar bypass," he said. He removed one of his hands from Arthur's and fished the electronic device out of his pocket with the other. "Now, whatever you do, don't let go of me."

Arthur wrapped his fingers firmly around Merlin's and squeezed his eyes shut.

\----------

The next time Arthur woke up, his face was pressed against cold metal, and someone was stroking the hair away from his forehead. He didn't remember falling asleep on the floor of a public loo. And whose fingers were those? They were very gentle.

"What—where am I?" he mumbled into the metal, feeling the vibrations of his voice in his outstretched hand. He blinked his eyes open. He found Merlin's face, very close to his. "Merlin? What's going on?"

Merlin smiled at him. "We're aboard one of the ships in the construction fleet. Now, sit up, Arthur, that's right." He helped Arthur to a sitting position. The hangover that Arthur had managed to shake that morning seemed to have returned and brought friends. His head was aching.

"Ugh," Arthur said.

"Yes, I'm sure you feel awful," he said, standing up and scurrying away. He returned with his satchel and produced both packets of crisps. He opened them and handed one to Arthur. "Here, you've lost a lot of salt in the journey. Eat this."

They crunched together in silence, and Arthur tried to come to grips with the day.

"So. You're an alien," he said. 

"Goodness, humans do like to state the obvious," Merlin said, but he had taken Arthur's hand again, and the feeling of his warm, dry skin against Arthur's somewhat softened the blow of the insult.

"All along?" Arthur asked. 

Merlin laughed and squeezed his hand. "Ever since I was born, yes."

"What were you doing on Earth?"

"Oh, that's right, I never told you that, not exactly," he said. He pulled free and rummaged through his satchel again. "Here. It's called the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I was on Earth doing some research for it."

He handed Arthur an object, about the size of a large book. On its front were emblazoned the words "Don't Panic" in large, friendly letters. Arthur raised his eyebrows at Merlin.

"It's a bit like your tablets and mobiles, only much cheaper, relatively speaking. Also, it creates something called a Babel Field, which translates all known languages. Or most of them, anyway," Merlin said. "But yeah, you can read about anything in the galaxy. Go on, try it." He knocked his shoulder against Arthur's companionably.

"What does the entry on Earth say?" Arthur asked him.

Merlin pressed a button on the object; at that, the words "Don't Panic" disappeared, and the screen lit up. It showed what looked like a Wikipedia-style display of information on a black background with amber lettering and simple animated line drawings. The display wasn't particularly impressive in terms of technology, but Arthur was very curious about the information the object contained.

"Earth," Merlin said, speaking to the Guide. 

The image on the screen morphed with a rather clever effect until it resolved itself into an animation of Earth's solar system. 

A mechanical voice came from the Guide, surprising Arthur so much that he almost dropped it. "Third planet from the star Sol. Inhabited by harmless ape descendants," the voice said. 

Arthur furrowed his brows. "That's not a lot of info for an entire planet, and humans aren't the only species there. And what do they mean by harmless? Humans can be very harmful."

"That's all true," Merlin said, sighing heavily. He took the Guide back and switched it off. "That's why I was there, to update the Guide entry. I had only just arrived when you met me. Since then, I've written up all sorts of reports, especially about the plant life. It will all be in the next edition of the Guide, I think, even if the planet has been destroyed. You did have such amazing plant life, nothing like on my homeworld. It's sort of a desert, you see."

"Ah," said Arthur. A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Are you an ape descendant yourself?"

"Yes," Merlin said. "Well, sort of. Close enough."

"Ah," said Arthur again. He was beginning to suspect that he was going to be making similar noises often, as he got acclimated to space travel.

When he looked back up at Merlin, who was sitting entirely too far away, Merlin was fiddling with the cuffs of his jacket, which today was patterned with black-and-white diamond shapes. "I have noticed, though, that my species is a bit more affectionate than yours tends to be. Yet you never corrected me. It caused a bit of a situation with Mr. Monmouth when I tried to hold his hand, let me tell you."

"Oh. Sorry about that," Arthur said, wincing at the unexpected pain that lanced his heart. He should have known it was just some sort of cultural difference. Really, with Merlin's unfamiliar but undeniably British accent and all of his strange, adorable ways—it all made sense now.

"Why didn't you correct me?" he asked, suddenly looking right into Arthur's eyes. 

Arthur searched them, not sure how to answer. He would be relying on Merlin for a lot from now on, he realised. It wouldn't do to push him away or make things awkward with declarations of love. But on the other hand, the Earth had just been destroyed. In light of that fact, did it really matter what he said right now? 

Arthur fancied that he could see a glimmer of hope in Merlin's eyes. He didn't know if it was real, but he opened his mouth to tell the truth—that Merlin was important to him, that he liked their closeness, that he was grateful for Merlin's friendship but that he also longed to kiss him, to hold him, to wake up with him every morning—did they have mornings in space? Arthur supposed they did; it would only make sense. He looked forward to finding out for certain. He opened his mouth to speak.

Just then, the door to the room they were in clanged open. An alien stood there, holding a large rifle. 

This alien was, unlike Merlin, obviously alien. He was green and had bug-out eyes, and he was huge, about twice as tall as Arthur and three times as wide. 

"Resistance is useless!" he bellowed, waving the gun in their direction. Arthur and Merlin slowly rose to their feet with their hands over their heads. "Up, you lot, that's right, get up. No room for hitchhikers aboard this ship, that's for sure. You're going out. Move it along. You can drop your hands, I know you haven't got any weapons. May as well grab that satchel, too, save me from having to clean up after you."

"I don't suppose he's going to drop us at the nearest roundabout, is he?" Arthur asked Merlin.

Merlin shook his head, not looking up. He had his satchel strapped across his body and the electronic thumb in his hand. He was smacking it in the manner of getting a device to behave better. 

"Nothing in range," he said, taking Arthur's hand.

"Very touching, I'm sure, but some of us have actual work to do," the guard grumbled. He moved his bulk behind them, making the metal floor quiver with every step, and he poked them in the backs with his rifle. Arthur and Merlin stumbled out of the room and into the corridor.

Merlin cleared his throat. "Are you sure this is the right career for you?" he asked the guard, conversationally. "There are so many other options out there for a big, strapping bloke like yourself. Perhaps something gladiatoral? Just as one idea among many, of course. You're quite good-looking. I think you'd have a lot of fans."

Arthur peered at Merlin. He was laying it on a bit thick, but Arthur supposed he must know what he was doing. Surely he'd gotten himself out of situations worse than this one.

"I don't think I'd enjoy anything like that, but I did have an auntie who suggested I go into farming," the guard mused. 

"Yes! Excellent plan. A noble profession indeed, feeding the people. I'm sure I could help you get set up with a nice parcel of land somewhere, if you let us go," Merlin said.

The guard hummed. "I appreciate the offer, I really do," he said. "But overall, I'm happy in this line of work. I rather like violence, and carrying out threats, and shouting things like 'resistance is useless.' I especially like ejecting hitchhikers out of airlocks. Enjoy the next 30 seconds or so, by the way. They'll be your last."

He shoved them into an airlock and bolted the door from the other side. There was a large window in the door on the opposite wall, through which Arthur could see nothing but empty blackness. He could also see that the door opened right into the void. They were about to be jettisoned away like refuse. 

Terror gripped Arthur, but he remembered himself just enough to turn to Merlin and enfold him in an embrace. "I don't want to die," he whispered.

"Nor do I," Merlin said. Their faces were pressed so close together that Arthur could feel Merlin's tears on his own cheek. "I'm sorry. I tried so hard to save you, Arthur."

"It's all right. I know. I'm glad you're here, Merlin," Arthur said, squeezing him tighter. 

The outer doors opened, and they were sucked outside, pulled free of each other. It was beautiful, Arthur had to admit, when he faced away from the ugly alien ship and all of the stars surrounded him. But he couldn't breathe, and he very much didn't want to die.

Merlin was waving at him, but he was far away. It wouldn't be long before their lungs gave out.

He screamed Merlin's name in his mind, and for the second time that day, everything went black.

\----------

Merlin was a simian, although he wasn't exactly an ape. He was a tiny monkey, in fact, covered in light brown fur, and he stretched his limbs as though he'd rather walk upright. Arthur looked down at himself. He was—he didn't recognise the species, exactly, but he was much larger than Merlin, with a big pot belly, and dark brown fur.

They were different kinds of simians. Arthur wondered if they could still spend time together. He hoped so.

He looked back at Merlin, who was now a large, diamond-patterned starfish with a happy smile. Behind Merlin, Arthur watched the sea changing colours, purple and green and pink. This wasn't much like the tropical holiday Arthur had imagined for them, although he supposed it wasn't so bad. He opened his mouth to tell Merlin, and water rushed in. 

Arthur closed his eyes and listened. Other than the sound of waves crashing on a beach, he could hear the rumble of an engine, although it was far away and faint. He concentrated on it, and it grew sharper and more real.

"Arthur," Merlin's voice called. "Arthur, wake up."

Arthur opened his eyes. Merlin was hovering over him again, looking like his usual self, apart from the obvious worry in his eyes.

"I'm fine," Arthur said. 

Merlin embraced him, then, just as tightly as Arthur had hugged him before they were ejected into space. "I thought I'd lost you."

"Oh, we're not dead, then?" Arthur asked. It was the only logical conclusion.

"No, but I don't know where we are," Merlin said. "Let's have a look around." He sprang to his feet and held his hand out for Arthur, a gesture which reminded Arthur of their many nights at the pub together; he was grateful for the familiarity. Arthur took Merlin's hand, and they walked away from where they'd been sitting.

The walls around them were white and gleaming, now, very futuristic-looking, Arthur thought. They narrowed to a corridor. Arthur looked at Merlin, who shrugged.

"Nice ship," Merlin said. 

"What was going on back there?" Arthur asked. "With the transformations and all."

"Don't know. I didn't like being a monkey. Wonder who this ship belongs to," he said, running a hand over a smooth white wall.

Eventually the corridor opened onto what looked like a control room. A wide window set in the far wall showed an immense view of space. Arthur shuddered at the reminder of what he'd thought were his final moments. Merlin wrapped his arm around his shoulders and squeezed briefly.

They entered the room. There were a few seats arrayed in front of some control panels, which were flickering with multicoloured lights. The scene reminded Arthur of footage he'd seen of space mission centres, although the room wasn't nearly as large as all that. Arthur could see that two of the seats held humans—or human-sized creatures.

"The hitchhikers are here, Morgana," a voice said. It was vaguely familiar—and—Morgana? Where had Arthur heard that name before?

The occupied chairs spun around, and there sat Morgana and Gwen. Arthur covered his mouth in shock.

"Morgana?" Merlin said, removing his arm from Arthur's shoulders and rushing forward. He hugged Morgana in what Arthur felt was an entirely overenthusiastic way. She patted Merlin's back with—three hands? Arthur rubbed at his eyes.

"This is Arthur, Morgana. Arthur, this is my—well, it's hard to explain, but we share three of the same parents. Sort of like a sister," Merlin explained. 

"Only not like a sister at all," Morgana said.

"Hey!" Merlin objected. "I'm perfectly respectable, I'll have you know. There's no shame in being related to me. I'm not sure I can say the same for you, though."

"So you say," Morgana said, smirking. Merlin laughed. They were friends—he was teasing her, and she was teasing him back. 

It was intolerable.

"We've met," Arthur cut in.

Merlin finally stepped away from Morgana and looked at Arthur, surprised. "You have?" 

"Yes. What sort of chat-up line is 'I come from another planet, baby'? And I see that it worked," he said, turning towards Gwen.

"It was a far better move than trespassing on my person," Gwen said. "Do you keep fluff in your pocket just to pull that trick on hapless strangers?"

"No!" Arthur protested. "It was on your jumper. I showed it to you." Gwen was very scantily clad at the moment, in what was either red underthings or a very daring bikini, with no sign of a jumper or skirt in sight. 

"It wasn't just a chat-up line, was it?" Morgana said, waving one of her hands around to encompass the ship, the flashing instrument panels, and the view of space. "And now here she is, with her degrees in anthropology and astrophysics, aboard my spaceship. Life is beyond perfect sometimes, don't you find?"

She and Gwen exchanged besotted looks.

"Love the new arm, Morgana, it really suits you," Merlin said. "Is this your ship?"

"I suppose it is, for now," Morgana said. "I stole it."

"Oh goodness," Merlin said. "In trouble again?"

Gwen giggled. "She is trouble, isn't she?" 

Morgana stood up, strode over to Gwen, and sat on her lap to kiss her. 

Merlin tapped Morgana's shoulder, earning himself a glare. "But why steal a ship?" he asked. "And why this ship?"

She turned to face him, but didn't stand up. "It's called the Heart of Gold. Isn't it beautiful?" Her eyes glittered. "It's powered by an Infinite Improbability Drive. That's why improbable things keep occurring."

"Like picking up hitchhikers who happen to be people you've already met?" Arthur asked.

Morgana inclined her head at him, rather regally, he thought. He rolled his eyes. "Precisely. The Drive also accounts for the anomalies you no doubt experienced in the entry bay. When we engage the Drive, we pass through every point in the universe simultaneously. You can expect anything at those moments, except normality, of course."

"You didn't answer my other question," Merlin said.

"Ah yes. Well, I've stolen this ship because I wish to find the planet of Magrathea," she said.

"Magrathea? But that's only a legend," Merlin said.

Gwen answered him. "Oh, yes, I understand why you might say that, but all of the current documentation available points to it actually existing. It's simply highly improbable that any travellers would happen upon it, hence the need for a ship which runs on improbability itself." She sounded very excited. 

Merlin was nodding along, looking thoughtful. It was one of Arthur's favourites of Merlin's many expressions. But none of this made any sense to Arthur. "Have you got any ice?" he asked. "I'm very thirsty."

Gwen motioned to one of the elegantly curved white walls. "There's a replicator, rather like Star Trek," she said. "Tell it what you'd like and it will do its best to meet your needs."

Arthur noticed then that words like "food," "communications," and, distressingly, "weapons" were carved into the walls at regular intervals. He headed to the one marked "food."

"A glass of ice water, please," he murmured to the wall, feeling foolish.

A panel opened and a glass appeared. Bits of ice slowly slid into it, followed by a rush of water. "Thank you and have a nice day," sang a mechanical voice. Arthur took the glass.

This wasn't the right sort of ice. It was in small, smooth spheres, rather than cubes. At home, Arthur made ice in ice cube trays in the freezer. The cubes were just the right size for chewing. But his freezer didn't exist any longer, did it? There was only going to be weird space ice for him from now on, forever and ever. 

Arthur sloshed the ice around the glass dispiritedly as the others chattered on. He took a sip of the cold water, then realised that he didn't know what to do with the glass.

"Here, let me take that," Merlin said. He was standing next to Arthur, who handed over the glass without any protests. Merlin turned back to Morgana, who had returned to her own chair, and he placed the glass at his feet. "I think perhaps that Arthur and I have had enough adventure for now. How bad is the heat on your trail? Would you have time to drop us home?"

Morgana crossed two arms over her chest and then added the third. Arthur was rather impressed at how smoothly it all happened; he wouldn't have imagined that three arms could fit together like that.

"The heat isn't so bad. I suppose I can do that for you," she said. "You'll owe me, though."

"I disagree," Merlin said, giving her one of his most charming grins. "I seem to recall paying your bail on Arcturus Seven only five years ago and never collecting on my debt."

At that, Morgana threw all of her hands in the air, palms facing Merlin, in a gesture of capitulation. "Yes, alright," she said. 

"It's really no trouble for us, is it, Morgana?" Gwen asked. 

"No, but I can never pass up giving my brother here a hard time. Merlin, your quarters will be down that corridor," she said, gesturing to the left. "It will take us a few days to get there, so feel free to relax and settle in. I think you both could do with a shower." She sniffed haughtily and spun her chair around, then bent over to return her attention to what Arthur assumed was some sort of command console.

"It seems we've been dismissed," Merlin whispered to Arthur. "Come on, follow me."

They walked along another corridor, this one as smooth and white as the first. Arthur noticed the words "Guest Quarters" carved into the wall and pointed it out to Merlin.

They stood before the sign. Arthur said, "Open," feeling absolutely ridiculous now, but a door lifted into the ceiling with a hiss.

"Nice job, Arthur, you adapt very well," said Merlin. He entered the room and Arthur followed.

"I'm not adapting well at all, Merlin," Arthur said. "My teapot is gone, my house is gone, my entire planet is gone. The ice isn't—isn't the sort of ice I like and I—" 

Merlin turned to him and hugged him briefly, which calmed the hysteria that had been bubbling up inside. "Let's sit on the bed. Oh, it's lovely, isn't it?"

Arthur hadn't even taken note of the room's furniture. It was all white, too; there was a large bed, a table, and two chairs. 

"Hang on, there's only the one bed," he said. 

"Doesn't matter," Merlin replied. He perched on the edge and folded one of his long legs under him. "Come on, sit next to me. It's been a long day, hasn't it?"

Arthur gave in and did as Merlin suggested, sitting down close to him. He took his feet out of his slippers, stretched out his legs, and crossed his ankles in front of him on the floor. Merlin's arm came up to circle around his waist.

"Arthur," Merlin said. "A few hours ago, before we were so rudely ejected from the construction ship, you were going to say something. Something about me, about touching me. Do you remember what it was?"

Of course he did. He hadn't forgotten for a moment.

"That I love touching you," he said, then swallowed. "That I love you. I wanted to tell you that I love you."

"Oh," Merlin said softly, rubbing his fingers into Arthur's hip. "That's good, then. I love you, too."

Arthur turned sharply to meet his eyes, and found Merlin giving him a soft little smile. "You do?"

"Of course," Merlin said, as though it were the most obvious fact imaginable. "Since the beginning. It would have been unfair to tell you when I couldn't tell you the other secrets I was keeping, but I wanted to. Because I do. I love you. When I found out that your planet was being destroyed, I had to save you."

Arthur breathed out and raised a hand to cup Merlin's cheek, something he'd never done before. Merlin leaned into the touch. He stroked his thumb under Merlin's eye, and Merlin hummed in pleasure.

"I'm going to kiss you now, is that alright with you?" Arthur asked. 

Merlin nodded, and Arthur closed his eyes and pressed his lips to Merlin's for the first time. Merlin's mouth was as soft as he'd always imagined, but also very playful, sucking at Arthur's lips until they parted and Merlin darted his tongue inside. For the first time that day—for the first time in a long time—Arthur didn't want to be doing anything else at all.

When the kissing slowed to light pecks, Arthur opened his eyes. Merlin was looking back at him. "Are you really taking me home with you? To your home planet, I mean?" Arthur asked.

Merlin nodded and pulled away slightly. "Yes, I think that's best. My third parent from the left and my second parent from the right still live there. They won't mind helping us find a place to stay. And there should be some work we can do. Maybe I can get us another assignment for the Guide."

"That sounds alright with me, but before we get there, you'll have to answer a lot more questions, you know that, right? Starting with how your family structure works, because I have no idea what all that means."

"There's something more important than that," Merlin said. He took a deep breath. Arthur wondered what other secrets Merlin had left to tell him; a part of him wanted to know everything right away, while another part hoped he'd learn something new about Merlin every day for the rest of his life, and still never learn everything. "My name isn't Merlin. It was chosen by someone from the Guide, who clearly had very little information about your world on hand, as a name that would help me blend in with humans more easily."

"Oh," Arthur said. "What is your name, then?"

"I can't tell you, but I can show you," Merlin said. "Take my hands."

Arthur did as he was asked, not minding the request any more than he ever did with Merlin. His hands were loose around Arthur's, and his breaths were slow, as though he were meditating. Arthur closed his eyes. 

An emotion flooded into Arthur, and he knew instantly that it wasn't his own. He couldn't name it, exactly, but he searched for words. It was comforting, gentle, with a beauty that was both delicate and deep. It reminded him of the depths of the forest, his favourite teapot, and the tulip fields he'd seen from the air before his plane landed in Amsterdam. 

"Is that your name?" he whispered.

Merlin nodded. 

"I don't understand. It's a feeling, not a word. Is that who you are?"

"Yes," he answered, simply. 

"Ah," breathed Arthur, this time in genuine wonder. "It's beautiful, Merlin." He opened his eyes and kissed Merlin again, remembering the feeling of his real name, and thinking about how apt it was. It was a long time before they pulled apart. 

"Merlin," Arthur said. "May I continue to call you that? Since I can't say your name."

"Of course," he replied. "I know that you can't pronounce it, but I wanted to show you. My name is in my native language, which is a rather difficult one for even the Guide to translate. I've learned to speak a different dialect since I began working for them. I can only transmit my name to you because of our close bond. I'm sure I'll be able to teach you to understand all of our language, in time."

Arthur nodded. He was a bit overwhelmed at all of that, but not afraid. In fact, he was sure nothing frightening was going to happen for at least the rest of the day. Fairly sure. 

"Let's have a shower," Merlin said. "I'm sure there are fresh clothes around here somewhere, too. Or we can go around nearly naked, like the others seem to do. Doesn't matter, does it?"

"Not at all," Arthur replied.

With his hand clutched in Merlin's once again, Arthur found he didn't mind all the strangeness as much. He could cope with anything, as long as Merlin was at his side.


End file.
